In His Arms
by ZombieMonkey
Summary: Peter reflects as his first child is born. This will probably turn into a series of short fics. Set in the distant future, if you've seen all of season 4, you'll be fine. If not, then spoilers for the finale.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing; those rights belong to JJ Abrams, J. Pinker, J. Wyman and the cast and crew of fringe. I gain nothing from this but the satisfaction of writing._

_**A/N:** Hey all, I'm back from my long hiatus with a new story. This might actually turn into a small series of moments so to speak and I'm planning a squeal to this one. Why will be updated soon, as will Like Mother Like Son._

The delivery had gone smoothly; Olivia gasping in pain, her eyes fiery as she glared at him, love shining through like a beacon as he held her hand in his, grimacing at the intense grip she held as the doctor told her to push. The universe was allowing them a respite from the hectic lifestyle they had; for months nothing had happened, no new cases and the mysterious events which occurred on that boat long from their minds. While they knew at any moment William Bell could come back and finish what he began, they also knew that by having the Bridge closed that his true intentions were thwarted - until Bell could figure out a way to get passed that little issue.

Peter and Olivia had purchased a quaint house close to Walter; white picket fence surrounding a beautiful brown stone with a double car garage and large backyard. He'd spent hours cleaning the basement up; the previous tenants stuff had been dumped there half assed as if they'd left in a hurry. Olivia had painted the nursery a soft yellow with tiny balloons and block shapes on the border. Everything was white; the crib one that Peter himself would had slept in when he was younger - if he had been from this universe. They never spoke about that anymore; as far as they all knew he was in his proper universe, though he did ache for his mother sometimes. The backyard had been kept tidy, small birch trees in the back by the fence for shade, a small garden Olivia had fallen in love with to grow vegetables during the spring.

Olivia had taken her maternity leave when she finally out grew her last work clothes, grumbling as Peter practically begged her to stay home and relax, not wanting anything to be a harm on their child. While they never found out the sex of their first born, Peter knew it was a girl. Sometimes, when she laid her head on his lap while he was reading a book, his hand would splay on her enlarged belly gently and he could feel the life growing inside her; this small miracle of skin and bones; half his genes and half hers. While he had been concerned with the Cortexiphan which flowed through Olivia's veins, the tests Walter had performed calmed his nerves knowing that their child would be born healthy.

Often he would wonder what his mother would say if she knew that he was about to become a father. While he didn't know her as well as he had known his mother from this universe, he knew enough to know that she would be happy either way. So many things were different in this new timeline that he thought maybe the other Walter would be as proud of a grand father as Walter was; beaming with happiness each day, a new bounce in his step. While he had met this new Walter from the other side only once or twice, he could see how the timeline had changed him, making him harder, yet more gentle as he had spoken with him. Helping Walternate with the shape shifters had been interesting at best, and it had eventually led to the capture of Nina Sharp.

And yet there were times when he missed his real family over there; in this new timeline he never went there when he had learned the truth, having died as a child. Yet Elizabeth had known instinctively just by looking into his eyes that he was her son, and it had given him hope for peace among them all. And the peace had come with the Bridge; both worlds beginning to heal, the other side reopening Ambered locations, freeing the poor innocent victims. Everything had been amazing and Peter had hated knowing that his mother would never get to see his daughter, never get to hold her in her arms, hear her cries during the night. Yet deep inside Peter knew that his mother was watching over them all, smiling with devotion in her eyes and he had grown strength from that on those nights when he wondered if he was truly ready to be a father.

Olivia had gone into labor during a Star Wars marathon on a Friday night in February; Peter smirking; joking that their daughter wanted to see for herself what everyone had been saying for years, while Olivia just growled at him in her pained way, gripping his forearm so tight as her water broke, the look of heated rage flickering through her eyes before she smiled, chuckling. He'd driven them to the hospital in record time, taking advantage of the police sirens in the SUV and speeding into the emergency room entrance. From there it had been a flash; Peter dialing Walter, who in turn called Astrid, who in turn called Broyles and by the time Olivia was ready to push her whole family had been in the waiting room anxiously awaiting the news. Rachel and Ella couldn't be there; but he'd called and let Olivia speak with them for 3 minutes before her contractions were too forceful to comprehend and the OBGYN had demanded the phone be taken.

Now, hours later, it was finally over with Olivia sleeping peacefully in the bed while their daughter slept in his arms. She had her mothers eyes and hair; the blond locks so light she almost looked bald, her cheeks chubby and adorable. Tiny fingers curled in the air as she had cried as the nurse handed her to him gently, his eyes welling with tears as he held this tiny life in his hands. She felt so tiny, a small bundle in his hands, and as Peter sat down, tired and a bit sore from the abuse he had taken during the delivery, he understood that it was all worth it as her lips puckered in her sleep, her hands against her chest.

He knew that he should take Henrietta out into the waiting room for everyone to see, but for right now she was his and only his. His little miracle. Peter smiled softly as he gingerly lifted his free hand, tenderly caressing the soft locks of hair on her perfect little head, wondering if this feeling of euphoria would ever end. He hoped not; when he had learned of the son that never was, his heart had been oddly empty of feelings, his eyes distant as he glimpsed the alter version of the love of his life holding his son, smiling gently as she sang to him, September standing beside him in the weird place. He had spoken of futures and past pasts, nothing making sense to him now, except for one sentence; "_She is the one... The Olivia Dunham from whom your shared future was meant to spring."_

Peter, at the time, hadn't understood what he had meant, until he had met her on the street after September had vanished a few weeks from when he had disappeared. Finding the Beacon had been both a blessing and a curse; his mind so confused at the time that he would believe anything. Yet the moment he'd seen Olivia, her smile wide with hope, he had seen everything he had loved about her and what he would grow to love in that moment before running up to her and holding her once more in his arms. Now, months later, he realized that everything he had been needing in his life was complete.

Etta squirmed in his arms and he blinked; realizing he had been lost in his thoughts of the past. The past was gone, nothing more than a blip in his vast brain, and he needed to focus on his future, his present, his little girl. Smiling down at her gently as Olivia moved slightly on the bed, her face the most peaceful he had ever seen he rose, bending down and kissing her lightly on the forehead before he glanced down at Etta, his eyes shining with pride.

"Time to meet your family angel." he whispered, holding her gently in his arms before moving to the door and opening it.


	2. In His Heart

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own them or the show. If I did, Alt Lincoln would still be alive.

Here it is; part two in the series, hope you enjoy!

Walter was normally known for being the boisterous mad man in the lab, but now as he waited patiently in the waiting room of the maternity ward in the hospital, he was oddly calm. While he knew he should be nervous, Walter found that the soothing white walls and scattered flowers throughout the hall was calming in a rather mundane way. He had never expected this to happen; for him to become a grandfather after everything every one had gone through. Astrid sat beside him, a small bundle of nerves as she kept looking left and right, no doubt wondering what was taking so long. Even after his long winded speech about the birthing process of humans, in which Astrid had grown agitated and told him to stop Walter had found that remaining still during this most joyous of events was worth it.

As nurses bustled about him, Walter thought of Peter and what his mind set must be at this point in time. When Elizabeth was giving birth to Peter, Walter had been haggard with concern, gripping her hand and urging her to push, while trying to keep a hold of his emotions. Peter's delivery had been a struggle for Elizabeth; at the time the drugs she had been on had counteracted with something in her blood and the pain which normally was dulled had doubled. He still remembered the misery on his dear wife's face as she'd screamed, gripping his hand so tightly he had to ice it after. But when his son had cried for the first time, all pink and glowing and perfect, Elizabeth had glanced at him with tired eyes, her face aglow in motherhood and Walter had known that it had been worth it.

Now however, he worried. Never before had a child been born with Cortexiphan blood, and Walter was curious to see what effect the chemicals would have in his granddaughter or grandson. His brain reeled off complications which could arise during delivery, yet he'd forced himself to remain sitting instead of rushing in and ordering a chem panel. Astrid must have sensed his silent distress, for her hand slipped into his and he glanced at her, a wobbly smile on his face as she whispered,

"They'll be fine Walter."

He patted her hand with his slightly shaking free hand and nodded, "I know dear. I wonder what is taking so long." he replied, an odd curiosity in his voice.

"Walter, you can't force these things to go quickly. When it happens, Peter will let us know." Astrid reminded him gently, glancing up as Agent Broyles advanced on them, a carry out container filled with three coffees.

"Any word?" Broyles asked in a clipped tone.

Astrid rose, Walter's hand dropping onto his lap as she took two cups shaking her head, "None yet Sir. " she replied before sitting down beside Walter once more, handing him a cup. "Drink Walter, it won't be long now." she murmured to him, feeling his nervousness vibrate towards her.

Walter blinked, jerking slightly as the cup came into his line of vision. "Thank you Astrid." he replied absently, his eyes now intent on the door leading to the room where his grandchild was currently being born. He sensed more than heard Agent Broyles sitting beside Astrid on the hard blue chairs before he continued his silent vigil.

His mind had been working for so long this glorious night, that it didn't take long for his brain to whirl and for thoughts to process. He thought of Over There; if only there was a way to send a message to Elizabeth and tell her that she was now a grandmother. Walter thought of how hard it must for her to know that her son was alive and well, living in another universe. And while he had glimpsed her before, when she had visited him during his emotional state when Peter had first returned, begging him for help that he had refused to give. Elizabeth had reminded him so much of his beloved wife; she had the same tenacity and drive that he had loved, yet, this version hadn't had the chance to raise her precious son properly, having him torn away so ferociously. And yet she hadn't blamed him.

To this day he would never understand why she hadn't blown up at him; it was his fault that her son had died. And then there was the other version of him; Peter's real father. The Secretary had confused him more; their relationship had been tumultuous from the beginning and yet, when both their worlds were in danger of being destroyed by a common enemy, The Secretary had been kind to him, sitting with him and telling him things he hadn't expected, respecting him a bit more than before. Which only made closing the Bridge between universes all the harder to do, let alone the fact that his son might have vanished again. Yet it hadn't happened, Peter remained and he had been grateful for the chance to be a father to him again.

The sound of a door opening made Walter look up, but it was only a young couple with a child in the man's arms walking out of the nursery to start their new life. He smiled, thinking that that would be Peter and Olivia soon, his heart speeding in his chest with pent up excitement as he vaguely listened to Agent Broyles and Astrid speaking quietly beside him. His eyes drifted to the couple and he smiled, watching as the man glanced up from staring into their child's face meeting his eyes. For a moment he thought it was Agent Lee before shaking that thought from his mind sadly once it became known this man had ginger hair and not brown like the previous agents' did. Thinking about Agent Lee was sad, though the man had chosen to leave this universe and go to the one where his heart laid.

His eyes drifted back to the door once more, urging it to open, feeling his body get slightly rocky as his nerves began to manifest. As much as he tried to remain calm, the hidden fears kept rising and his hand shook slightly as he sipped at the sludge that passed for coffee, feeling like he should go and do something, anything to keep his mind off of the event which was unfolding. His eyes twitched in his head as he began to rise before the door opened again, Peter stepping out this time, his face looking ragged and tired. Instantly Walter forgot about his perils as he jumped up, his cup forgotten as he put it down before hurrying towards his son, his eyes fierce.

"Son?" He asked hopefully, his face one of utter calm.

Behind them Astrid and Broyles rose, seeing the small bundle in his arms, identical smiles on their faces as he looked down at his child, his eyes shining with pride.

"Walter, meet Henrietta. Henrietta, meet your grandpa." Peter whispered gently, not wanting to disturb his precious bundle.

Walters eyes shone with such tenderness as he stepped closer nervously, his hands wringing at his abdomen as he glimpsed at her. A pink baby blanket was wrapped protectively around her body, a tiny little head peeking out, eyes closed in slumber. A taft of hair surrounded her head as Peter smiled gently, nodding for him to hold her. With such tenderness as he showed Gene, he took her from her fathers' arms, a tear making its way down his cheek as Peter's hand went to his back as Walter carefully held her.

"She's beautiful son." Walter whispered tearfully, his chin bobbing as his emotions overcame him. His smiled was jittery as his hand gently moved the blanket from her face, seeing so much of his son in her. "Just perfect" he repeated. She had Olivia's hairline and hair; soft blonde curly hair which clung to the scalp, tiny perfect pink lips which puckered slightly as she moved an arm out of the blanket. Henrietta smacked her lips before stilling again, falling asleep before really waking, making Walter grin.

"She has your cheeks son." Walter announced as Astrid moved to stand beside him, her eyes shining.

Peter smiled, running a hand through his hair as he nodded, "She's just like her mother though; no nonsense. Didn't even put up a fuss when she got checked out." he explained proudly as he watched his father interact with his daughter.

Walter glanced up, his face glowing with happiness. He couldn't find the words to express just how proud he was in this moment, and for the first time since closing the Bridge and knowing their universe could potentially end at any time, Walter felt at peace. He had been given a second chance, and this time he wouldn't disappoint the white tulip he remembered from so long ago.


End file.
